


Lather

by Cluegirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendly wager between the last of the Death Eaters, and the last of the Marauders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lather

"I win."

Snape stiffened at the low voice beside him, but didn't turn. "What are you nattering about, Lupin?"

The werewolf hobbled up to the railing next to him, leaned over to peer down into the surgery, where St Mungo's best, clearly relieved and more than a little giddy, were wheeling their unconscious patient off to his recovery room. "You heard me, Severus. We had a wager. You just lost it."

Then Snape did turn, with a scowl so fierce that any man of sense would have burst into flames under its force. "If you are referring to that puerile, irrelevant nonsense you used to spout after Order Meetings --" he spat, then drew himself up tall, bandaged hand pressed to his belly with as much dignity as he could muster. "And anyway, I have not lost yet. He could very well die in the night."

Lupin turned, a feral gleam in his eye, and a lopsided grin flashing just enough glimmer of teeth. "That wouldn't make a difference. Harry is still breathing. Voldemort is not. Ergo, even if you find a way to poison the poor kid tonight, I'll still have won our bet, and you'll still have to pay up."

Snape decided not to protest the insinuation -- it wasn't as if he hadn't thought of it, after all. Instead he sneered. "It was a debate, not a wager. Barely a point of interest that you happened to guess correctly, in fact."

"Heavens, you must have been drunker than you looked that night if you've forgotten this," Lupin's grin spread as he dug into his robes and produced a scrap of parchment. He twitched it away as Snape reached for it with his good hand. "No, I'll just read it out to you, shall I? It's written in Fletcher's hand, and I know block printing gives you a headache, after all. _ I, Mundungus Fletcher, stand to witness the wager between one Severus Snape, and one Remus Lupin on this night of December twenty-fourth, nineteen ninety eight. Snape has it that young Harry Potter will not possibly survive the destruction of the Dark Lord known as Voldemort, or He-who-must-not-be-named. Remus Lupin has it that Snape is a ghoulish old prat, and of course Harry Potter will survive, because that's what Harry Potter does."_

Snape cursed under his breath, but Lupin kept reading. _"Terms: The winner shall, for the space of one hour, command the loser's total and unquestioning _\-- oh dear, he misspelled that word horribly, didn't he? -- _obedience. So says I, Mundungus Fletcher.'_ Well, actually, he just put an "X" there, but it's _his_ X, so it's still binding."

"Wait," Snape protested, reaching for the parchment again, "Wait, you've forgotten a part -- that wasn't all of it!"

"Aha, so you DO remember?"

"There was a bloody _condition_, you cur! Let me see that!"

"Oh, here it is," Lupin blocked his grab, and turned to put the parchment out of easy reach, "a footnote on the back. _'No sex,_' it says, and we've both signed it as well. See? Your S's were a bit wobbly there, weren't they?" He straightened up and shoved the note into his trouser pocket. "So then, you'll want to be settling up-"

"Lupin, I've no idea where YOU spent the last twenty-four hours, but **I** spent it on the battlefield, knee deep in mud and carnage, trying my best not to become one of the corpses! Now my hand is broken, the healers are too overwhelmed to do more than bandage it and offer me opiates, and what I **want** to do is go back to my dungeons and SLEEP! Settling up your wretched attempt at humiliating me features nowhere on that list!"

Lupin blinked. "Of course. Which is why we'll settle up tomorrow evening, after dinner. Oh, don't scowl, you're as grounded as I am until Dumbledore's sure there aren't any more Death Eaters out looking for us, and not that I don't trust you, but I'm not giving you any extra time to think of a way to wriggle out of this." He grinned, and clapped Severus on the shoulder as he turned to go. "I'll expect you in my quarters at half eight then."

And it was good that he didn't wait for a reply, because it was several minutes before Severus could think of anything but profanity anyhow.  


~*~

 

"You're early," Lupin smiled, opening the door.

"How keen your powers of observation are in reference to the blatantly obvious, Lupin," Snape pushed past him and strode into the neatly furnished chambers. "You left dinner early. I came to get this farce over with." And of course it didn't bear mentioning that Snape had hoped to disrupt and truly elaborate preparations his soon-to-be tormentor might be arranging -- they both knew that anyway.

But Lupin, damn him, refused to look put out by Severus' unexpected arrival. In fact, he looked quite pleased. And quite... comfortable as well; clothed only in his trousers and shirtsleeves, with no sign of his robes, nor the basic decency of a waistcoat to cover him. He wasn't even wearing a necktie. Not a good sign.

"Excellent," he smiled, and reached for Severus' buttons, "we'll just get started then."

"What the devil are you about?" Snape hissed, but stepping back brought him up against the door, "No sex! You agreed to it!"

Lupin gave him a sober but amused look. "I remember. And taking off your robes and jacket are not 'sex'. So belt up, you great ninny."

"Ninny, indeed!" he sniffed, reaching to undo his own buttons though his swollen, aching fingers hated him for it. Lupin let him fumble the first open before he moved Snape's bandaged hand away and took the process over, flipping the buttons through their holes almost as though his hands were as trained to it as Snape's own. Snape shivered as the heavy black wool slid away.

But then Lupin reached for his shirt fastenings. "No-" Snape grabbed his wrist, but under the challenge in those tawny eyes, relented after only a moment.

"Just need to get the collar out of the way," Lupin explained when Snape looked aside and dropped his hand back to his side. He folded the ivory silk under, fingers brushing warm and delicate against the back of Snape's neck. "There," he said as though he hadn't felt the shudder, "now come along."

Taking time for a convulsive swallow, Snape did so. The bathroom. He failed to swallow a groan.

"What?" Lupin asked, all amusement.

"I had rather hoped," Snape growled, wrenching off his boots and flinging them in the corner, "that caveat against sexual contact might have allowed me to at least avoid being stripped for your ghoulish amusements. Oh, fine! Laugh at me as well if you will, I can hardly stop you, can I?" Which only made Lupin grin wider.

"Oh, Severus, if you'd stop whinging for a moment, you'd enjoy this far more." He gave Snape's shoulder a nudge, "Now go sit in the chair."

"Chair?"

"By the sink. And put the towel over your shoulders." Then he turned to the cabinet on the wall, making a show of selecting from the bottles gathered there. "What's wrong then?" he asked, turning to find Snape unmoved and glowering.

"This is not funny!" he hissed, "Insult me to my face, if you're going to, but if you think for one moment I'm going to submit to this abus-"

"You lost, Snape," Remus shrugged, "You lost, and this is what I want. You can take it personally if you like, but it won't change things. You'll still wind up in that chair, and I'm still going to do it."

"My hair is not -" he stopped, because, after all, it was greasy, but with good reason. "I have to keep it fireproofed against potions accidents, you cretin, and rendered magically neutral! I can't have you pouring Salazaar knows what all over my head! One shed follicle in the cauldron, and anything at all could happen!"

"Snape, your left hand is broken," Lupin smiled, backing him relentlessly toward the reclined chair, "I happen to know for a fact you can't use a knife, wand, stirring rod, or ladle in your right, so until the healers recover from the battle triage, you aren't going to be brewing anything. Now sit down."

"But!" Snape staggered against the chair and decided not to catch his weight on his bad hand. "There is nothing wrong with my cleaning charms, Lupin."

"Mm," Lupin managed not to smile at least as he flicked out the towel and settled it around Snape's neck, "Well I didn't say there was. But I think you'll find that in this particular case, doing things the quick way is not doing them the _best_ way." And with that, he swiveled Snape properly into the seat, and pushed him back. The edge of the sink molded like soft wax around the base of his skull, the chair swelling and giving under his back and shoulders until Snape had no choice but admit (in the privacy of his own mind, at least) that he was really exquisitely comfortable.

"You're being ridiculous," he sneered to make up for it, "if you think this will make any difference whatsoever in my appearance."

To which, Lupin only smiled, sidelong and smug, and turned on the water.

And the trouble was... the trouble was that the water was perfect; just on the edge between warm and hot, sluicing over his scalp just long enough to surprise him with his reaction. Then it stopped, and what was that smell? Neroli, something resinous, fir or spruce, or... and sandalwood, but something...ohhh. He lost the thread of analysis as Lupin's fingers began stroking through his sodden hair, coaxing lather in a hissing, faintly tickling cloud around his forehead, neck, and ears. And sweet Salazaar, but the man's fingers were strong, rubbing deeply over his skull in mesmerizing patterns. He found his eyes drifting closed, not because he was sleepy, no, but the better to enjoy the sensual massage.

But the trouble was... The trouble was, he was enjoying it. _Really_ enjoying it, in a way that had nothing to do with the blissful relaxation pouring like molten honey over a neck and shoulders so accustomed to stress that the release was almost an ache. He was enjoying it in a way that sent the blood pooling to his cock, as though by way of reminding him that he had come rather close to death the day before, and his disseparate bits found themselves in the mood to celebrate still being alive. He shifted in the chair, but couldn't think of a discrete way to cover his burgeoning erection.

Then suddenly Lupin's hands pulled away. Snape startled, but the immediate return of the water's caress, this time augmented by Lupin's fingers as they searched out all traces of the fragrant soap, calmed him again. He let go a moan of appreciation before he even thought to censor it.

"I told you it was nice," Lupin murmured, grinning when Snape frowned at him, "We're only just started, by the way. It gets better."

"Hmph," Snape managed without any real heat as the water stopped again, "Indolence. Inefficient and hedonistic, and what is that?"

"Something to keep it from tangling so much," Lupin answered, and this time the smell was of citrus and musk and honey -- strangely complimentary to what had gone before. Snape drew a deep noseful of it just to feel again how the scent sizzled its way down his spine to coil around his heavy bollocks. At Lupin's discontented grunt, he cracked a curious eye.

"This angle hurts my shoulder," the werewolf complained, stepping away from the sink. And before Snape knew what he was about, Lupin had swung his leg right across the chair, and settled his weight directly onto Snape's lap. He made a ragged sound of shock as his erection was borne down into his belly, pressed flat beneath Lupin's... oh Salazaar, was that his... Lupin was ... He swallowed.

"We agreed-" he managed, but lost the thread of the words as Lupin rolled forward to lay full length along Snape's body.

"This still isn't sex," Lupin replied, stroking his fingers urgently into Snape's hair once again, "and it's easier on my back."

Snape wasn't fooled. The man was hard as iron, and that wretched angle put his erection just about on top of Snape's own, and when he carded his fingers into Snape's hair in long, sinuous strokes, tugging the mass gently into separate, slick strands, the motion rolled his hips against Snape's like a gentle tide. Surge with every stroke, roll with each release, and Snape couldn't think of exactly what infraction he'd meant to call Lupin on. He slid his bandaged hand up onto Lupin's back, rested in just in the lowest curve of the spine, where the long muscles worked and rolled like serpents beneath that heated skin. With his good hand he quested along the side, tracing bone and sinew and linen-covered scars, and -

"What?" he gasped as Lupin released his head and made as if to sit up, "What the devil are you doing?"

The cretin had the temerity to look startled, "I have to stop now. You said no sex."

"Like fuck, you're stopping!" Snape growled, clamping his arms around that lean chest and dragging the werewolf back down hard against him. Lupin managed one yelp of a laugh before Snape seized a fistful of HIS hair, and shoved him down into a plundering kiss. And then they were surging together, all pretenses dropped, all protests forgotten. Ears full of thundering blood and chuffing breath, the click of teeth and the slide of tongue and lip, the frantic rustle of cloth to cloth overlaid by a panoply of half-voiced grunts and gasps. Noses full of soapy perfume and sweat and water and musk and sex and sex and sex.

Who came first, neither could tell, but the aftermath found them still draped close, gasping syncopated breaths as the echoes of orgasm marched sedately off into the distance. And blast it, even with the bloody great werewolf flung limp and heavy atop him, Snape was still entirely too damned comfortable. He felt a huffing breath against his damp neck and summoned up a scowl.

"What amuses you now?"

"Mmm," came the response, a direct rumble in his ear that thrummed a pleasant shock all the way down to his still-throbbing prick, "Just thinking I'll have to rinse you again here in a moment. Once I can move again, that is."

Snape grunted, shifted his hips as his sticky release began to ooze uncomfortably between them. "And a cleaning charm as well, if you wouldn't mind." He reluctantly untangled his fingers from Lupin's hair and said, "I cannot believe _that_ was your bloody fantasy!"

And at that, Lupin did pull back, making them both shudder as he rolled back upright with a grin. "Actually, Severus," he checked his watch, "I still have thirty-five minutes of your time left, which is plenty of time for a bath, don't you think?"

"That depends," Snape indulged in a smirk, "On whether you can follow directions"

"Directions?" Lupin huffed a laugh.

By way of answer, Snape reached up and plucked the bottle from the edge of the sink. "Indeed. It says here: "Lather, Rinse and Repeat..."

~*Fin*~


End file.
